


still i will live here

by alderations



Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [19]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hair Braiding, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Survivor Guilt, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Lyfrassir has been to dozens of shows by now, and given that Gunpowder Tim vs. the Moon Kaiser is a crowd favorite, they’re well-acquainted with the song. But this is the first time that they’ve seen Tim nearly trip over his own guitar on his way offstage, hands shaking and eyes unfocused, and they’re immediately concerned.(Whumptober Day 19: grief/mourning loved one/survivor's guilt)
Relationships: Lyfrassir Edda & Gunpowder Tim
Series: Whumptober/Mechtober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950916
Comments: 13
Kudos: 120
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	still i will live here

Lyfrassir has been to dozens of shows by now, and given that Gunpowder Tim vs. the Moon Kaiser is a crowd favorite, they’re well-acquainted with the song. But this is the first time that they’ve seen Tim nearly trip over his own guitar on his way offstage, hands shaking and eyes unfocused, and they’re immediately concerned.

They have no intention of confronting Tim about it, because he’s terrifying even in a  _ good  _ mood, but they keep an eye on him as the rest of the crew packs up their instruments and follows him back to the Aurora. Marius, violin slung over his shoulder, throws his other arm around Lyf’s waist and pulls them in to kiss the side of their head, mussing their already-sloppy braids. “You’re fucking up my hair,” they whine.

“Looks cute that way.” Marius only makes matters worse by nuzzling into the side of their head until his monoggle catches on one strand of hair and pulls it loose, and they swat him with their tambourine.

Lyf has never been a particularly musical person, but the Mechanisms are determined to change that. They started out on the triangle, with the Toy Soldier’s enthusiastic assistance, and have since graduated to tambourine and, occasionally, harmonica. Marius insists that they’ll outperform Jonny in a matter of days, though Lyf isn’t keen on finding out what Jonny will do when that happens. In the meantime, small percussion instruments make for great weapons when they don’t actually want to cause any permanent damage to the crew.

Once they board the ship, Tim takes off without a word to the others, and Lyf watches his coat swish behind him as he disappears from the common room. “Is he… okay?” they ask, tipping their head toward Marius again.

“He gets like that,” Marius shrugs. “Bad memories, I guess. He’s always fine by the next day.”

“And you never… check on him?”

Marius just frowns at that. “You’ve met Tim, right? That’s a  _ very  _ good way to get blown up.”

At that, Lyf drops the matter, but they don’t stop thinking about it. They’ve watched One Eyed Jacks and Lucky Sevens almost as many times as they’ve seen Tim’s song, but neither Jonny nor Ashes ever seem to break a sweat when reenacting their own backstories. On the other hand, they once heard Nastya mention a song that she hasn’t performed once since their creator left, so maybe Tim isn’t  _ that  _ alone.

And Lyf themself has a lot of trouble even shaking a tambourine along to Red Signal.

A few hours later, after the crew (sans Tim) have eaten dinner and dispersed to go about their various post-show routines, Lyf wanders past the shooting range and hears muffled screaming from inside. ‘Shooting range’ is a generous description—it’s just a variety of old crates and boxes stacked around a hollowed-out loading bay, for the rare occasion that any of the Mechanisms actually feels like doing target practice that’s not on each other. So gunshots are of no concern, but the screaming is strange.

Usually, they’d run in the opposite direction at the sound. Given that they can only hear Tim’s voice, though, they’re not about to wander into a fight, and they’re still a bit put off by how quickly Marius had dismissed their line of questioning earlier. So they steel themself, open the door to the shooting range, and duck instinctively, knowing that Tim will absolutely turn his gun on them.

He does, and he misses. Lyf doesn’t stand up again until they hear Tim’s arm drop to his side. “Just me,” they call, in hopes that hearing a less-confrontational voice will calm him down.

“What do you want.”

Lyf strides into the room, coming to stand close enough to Tim that they don’t have to shout, while maintaining enough distance to avoid getting pistol-whipped if they piss him off. “You seemed… not good earlier. After the show.”

Tim raises his eyebrows, which stretches the skin around his mechanism in a truly horrifying way. “Yeah. I’m ‘not good’ in general, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I—I had,” Lyf stammers. It feels rude to say that, but Tim seems to soften a bit, as if comforted by the acknowledgement of his mental health and/or general evilness. “Just… I’d never seen you look so… upset after singing your song.”

He scowls, and for a moment Lyf thinks they’re about to get shot, until he delicately holsters his gun and steps into their space. “You’re not here on Marius’s behalf, are you?”

“Why would I be?”

That gets a smirk out of Tim. “‘Cause he fancies himself a psychiatrist, is all. But you don’t seem all that keen on enabling him.”

“I’m really not,” Lyf grumbles. “Honestly, I asked if you were okay and he kinda blew me off. I just…” They swallow, looking down at the ground so they can’t see the minute twitches of metal working under Tim’s skin. “I don’t know. Your whole planet is gone, not to put too fine a point on it. I thought…”

“You thought you might understand?”

Lyf winces at the acid in his voice, but when they look up, Tim doesn’t look angry, just lost. “Not necessarily. I never had a—a Bertie. But the—being a survivor, I get.”

For a long moment, Tim doesn’t give any sign that he’s even heard them, until he suddenly stands up a bit straighter as if struck with an idea. “Will you braid my hair?”

“I—what?”

Tim tips his head to the side, sending the tangled mass of his chestnut hair over one shoulder. It gets messy during shows, to say the least, and storming around the shooting range with a gun has apparently not helped. “I like the braids you do. I want some.”

Lyf agrees, hesitantly, and within a few minutes finds themself sitting on a bench in the back of the shooting range with Tim on the floor between their knees and his curls cascading between their fingers. His hair feels even better than it looks, which is almost a miracle. “You wanna talk about it, or…?”

“He died trying to save Jonny, y’know.”

They pause, then continue braiding when Tim nudges their knee with an elbow. “Bertie?”

“Yep. Took a bullet in the fucking stomach, jumping in front of Jonny. We didn’t know that the fucker would’ve been fine anyway.” Tim swallows, and his shoulders hitch, and Lyf feels for him in a way they didn’t expect to. “And I—I’ve got a sense of humor, y’know? You have to, to live this long. But sometimes when Jonny says it was  _ frankly hilarious,  _ I just want to… leave.”

Lyf thinks about Jonny’s eerie impression of them, about the way he twitches and writhes and chants the invocation that tore their life apart. “Yeah. I get that.”

In front of them, Tim nips at his cuticles and scoots a bit closer so that they can get better leverage on his hair. “I mean, you know how I feel about Jonny. I don’t need to  _ say  _ it. Still wanna rip his guts out sometimes.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” They finish the central braid and tie it off, then separate another section from the left side of Tim’s head and start braiding toward the center.

“That’s not to mention… I don’t… I should’ve been the one to die,” Tim continues, quieter now. “If Bertie were immortal, he wouldn’t be like… this.”

Even in the brief span of time Lyf has spent with the Mechanisms, they know that’s probably not the case. “You have no way of knowing that. Doesn’t help to dwell on it, I think.”

Tim just shakes his head. “Not gonna stop me.”

“Fair,” Lyf mumbles. As if they don’t think with every waking moment that someone else,  _ anyone  _ else, from their planet could’ve done things better. Could’ve saved more than themself. They’re a hypocrite, but Tim doesn’t need to know that. “How much time do I have to braid before you get bored and try to stab me?”

He snorts. “I don’t have a bayonet on me, so you’ve got a while. Plus, it, uh. Feels really good to have someone touch my hair. If I’m being honest.”

Lyf doesn’t have time to unpack that at the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> not super happy with this one but I really need to go to bed *facepalm* this idea was a combination of a few different ideas from various discord servers and I wish I had the energy to flesh it out more, but here we are. f in the chat for my brain. it's kinda fried. lol.
> 
> the good news is! i already have ideas for the next couple days! so that should make it a Bit easier to write, i also have a day off of work yeehaw. hope you're all taking care of yourselves and enjoying my ramblings and I'm sorry I'm not coherent enough to say whatever tf I usually say in my end notes. I know it's just weird anecdotes, but still.


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